


Not a Joke

by EmeraldTulip



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, Getting Together, M/M, Slight Internalized Homophobia, Slight cursing here and there, Time Skips, background ben/beverly, background bill/stan, bill and bev inadvertently become richie's therapists, but reddie is the main ship, eddie and richie should examine their feelings more, for all your shipping needs!, more info in the a/n, really really minor bill/beverly, said cursing is consistent with the book and movie, talking about ptsd and anxiety and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldTulip/pseuds/EmeraldTulip
Summary: This took them all way too long to figure out.





	Not a Joke

**Author's Note:**

> hello, it fandom! a few points before we start off: one, this is mostly based off of the 2017 movie. i have read the book, so there are some of the more bookish elements in it, but it's been a while. two, this is primarily a reddie story that revolves around the losers club finding out. i know the idea has been done before, but i made it as different as possible. there's minor stenbrough, benverly, and mentioned billverly. three, it's very long because it was originally supposed to be seven chapters but they all varied in length so i just put it all together. hope that's okay.
> 
> also! in this story, bev doesn't move away right after because i didn't want her to. so she's here. more will be explained in the story.
> 
> okay, so without further ado! hope you enjoy!

Beverly notices first.

It’s strange, she realizes as she looks back on it. Really, she thinks, it could—should, even—have been any of the others. For instance, Bill knows them better than anyone, and besides, he’s everyone’s personal therapist. He knows all the secrets. Bill is the glue holding the whole group together, and he has such a way of making someone feel like they have his absolute attention and focus. Bev notices how his eyes catch on things she wouldn’t have thought to take note of, like the way Stan touches the scars on his face way too often, or the way that Mike flinches at loud _bangs_ , or the way that Ben always rushes through the library now instead of spending every waking minute there, or the way Richie hugs Eddie far too fiercely for far too long after the Neibolt House incident. Bill just cares _so damn much_ , and she’s so shocked that he didn’t notice sooner. It should have been him.

Ben, too, is so observant that Bev is shocked he didn’t see it sooner. He knows so many of the little details, all the things that come together to make each one of them unique. He knows that she hates people using their fingertips to brush her hair out of her face. He knows that when Richie goes quiet it’s _always_ because he’s remembering things he would rather not, and that Eddie or Bill will probably be the only ones able to pull their beloved Trashmouth out of his funk. He knows that Mike is picky about what he eats now, and that he can’t watch sad animal movies. He knows that Stan loves birds and he even makes a point to always draw Stan’s attention to any he may have missed.

Mike is just smart in general, and he cares so much. He has a special power, almost, where he can just _tell_ when something is wrong and knows exactly what to do about it. Beverly’s seen that power in action many times—whenever Bill has a breakdown over Georgie and his stutter overtakes him, or when Stan wakes screaming about lights and teeth when they all have sleepovers, or when Ben has a bad day with bullies (different ones, now, the old gang is long gone) and shuts down, or when Eddie has an “asthma attack” and Richie basically drives himself into hysterics trying to calm him down. Mike has helped her, too, listening intently as she talks about her dad, Bill and Ben, school, her mom, their friends.

Stan, even. Stan came through the summer more damaged than anyone else, if that’s possible. He’s so _quiet_ now. And Bev kind of hates it sometimes, but it makes him good company. He’s always so deep in thought, and besides that, he, too, was one of the founding members of the Losers. Stan has such a strange _tone_ , if that would make any sense, but Beverly knows that it’s exactly how he understands things. Stan cares the way Bill cares, and Beverly just doesn’t understand how Stan couldn’t see it—especially considering one of the two objects of her query was, arguably, Stan’s best friend.

(She says ‘arguably’ because they’re _all_ best friends, so in a sense Stan is all best friends with them. And, in a sense, Richie is best friends with someone else. So, it’s all just confusing and everyone should have noticed it sooner than she did, she tries to rationalize.)

Richie Tozier. What a guy. Honestly, Beverly didn’t know what to make of him at first, but now, as school starts up once again, she’s never been so glad to call someone like him a friend. Their less-than-ideal home lives give them common ground, and she finds that he’s a great confidant when she’s too anxious to think about Bill and Ben. And though most of his jokes are shit, in her opinion, he brings an airiness to her she hadn’t known she needed. And, yeah, he is an idiot sometimes so _really_ , Bev shouldn’t have expected him to have known, but still. What an idiot to not have known.

And then there’s Eddie. Like Richie, looking back on it, Beverly shouldn’t have expected him to have known. There was always a suspicion lingering in the back of her mind that she ignored because it was Eddie’s business and she didn’t have to know until he told her, if he ever did. But everything Eddie did was just slightly off-kilter from the rest of them, how they all acted around her and girls in general. There were many times she wanted to drop hints to the smallest Loser that whatever he ended up doing she’d be okay with, and probably be able to sympathize with more than he could imagine, but she never did say anything.

Richie and Eddie, man. What idiots.

Because the days she realized was the day they were leaving the Aladdin a week or two ago, all fooling around in town. Mike had challenged Bill and Stan to a race to the pharmacy, where they were going to stop to pick up bandages for a nasty cut Ben had gotten the day before while they were biking. Bill smirked and accepted outright, while Stan rolled his eyes and tipped his head slightly as a nod. They took off, Ben trailing behind them, trying to keep up but failing because of his wrecked knee. Bev herself had fallen back, laughing as the three boys up ahead sprinted fast and Ben struggled to catch up. That’s when she had spotted Eddie and Richie, walking slightly ahead and to the left of her. Eddie laughed at something Richie said, his shoulders shaking through the giggles as Richie slung an arm around them, and Bev was tempted to ask what was so funny. Just as she was about to call out, she was stopped short by the look she saw on Richie’s face. Something was familiar, and she only struggled for the memory for a moment before realizing that the look Richie was giving Eddie was the look she often caught Ben directing at _her_.

Oh. _Oh_.

“See, Eds, you like my jokes!” Richie grinned, and Beverly could finally hear what he was saying now that she was paying attention and listening intently for him.

“No, I don’t,” Eddie denied, smile still blooming over his face. “And don’t call me that, you know I hate it!”

“Hmm, really, because I think you love it,” Richie retorted playfully, ruffling Eddie’s hair. Beverly watched as Eddie flushed and jerked away from Richie’s hand, giving the tall boy a half-hearted shove and a “Beep beep, Richie”.

It was so painfully obvious that thinking about it now makes her heart ache a little. It’s so pure and beautiful, what they have, but even if the Losers would never care, she knows their town certainly would.

And that’s how she realized that she was the only one who knew, and that maybe it would be the case forever. Bill would have told her if he thought anything. Ben, too, and probably Mike as well. Stan could never keep a secret like that to save his life, anyway. And Richie and Eddie… she somehow knows that they didn’t realize. Maybe they can’t recognize how they feel because of circumstances, of stupid fucking Derry, of the people. Because even though it’s the nineteen-fucking-eighties, people in their town still act like it’s still the fifties. Hell, all the Loser boys’ _parents_ say shit like what’s written on the Kissing Bridge. Her own father did, too, when he was alive, despite all the things he did to _her_. And yeah, it hurts Bev for reasons she can’t quite bring herself to say just yet but can hide well enough with her boy troubles. But for Richie, and especially Eddie, well… someone less understanding than her is going to catch on eventually, and everything will go to shit.

So maybe they can’t recognize it. Maybe they won’t ever recognize it. One can only hope.

She keeps her mouth shut.

* * *

For all of Beverly’s incredulousness about Bill not noticing first, he does end up ranking second in this strange noticing game.

School has been in session for a few weeks now, and has been getting steadily more boring already. So when Mike declares on a Friday that they’re going to make the most out of their three-day weekend, everyone readily agrees.

Bill ends up biking with Richie as they make their way to the Aladdin, the agreed meeting place. Halfway there, Richie’s brakes start acting up and Richie curses as he dismounts. Bill slows to a stop, driving in lazy circles around his friend as he inspects the bike.

“Busted,” Richie finally announces, cursing again. “Gotta go on foot.”

Bill immediately gets off his own bike, offering, “I’ll w-walk with you.”

“It’s fine, Bill,” Richie replies dejectedly. “You can go ahead, I’ll just be a little late and I can get this fixed later.”

“No, I d-do-don’t mind,” Bill says. “Mike fixed my b-b-bike last week, he c-can help.”

Richie grins crookedly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Suit yourself. Better hurry up then, we don’t wanna be late.”

They’re fortunately not far away from town, well within walking distance. Having to walk the bikes slows them down, but not by much. Unfortunately, the temperature has plummeted as quickly as Richie assures them all his grades will at some point. Even more unfortunate for Bill, Richie starts to complain about the cold.

It’s not like Bill isn’t used to Richie being annoying. It’s not much more than a minor inconvenience at this point. But still. Richie runs his mouth too much.

“Beep beep, Richie,” he says more than once, but Richie’s really into his monologue at this point and Bill is finding it hard to even think over the noise. “Ch-chill, Richie,” he sighs eventually. Then he immediately regrets his wording as Richie whips around to glare at him dramatically.

“‘Chill’?” he repeats incredulously. “Trust me, Bill, I am definitely chill! I’m fucking cold! It’s freezing!”

“R-richie, you’re wearing a s-s-sweater,” Bill points out, making a point to gesture first to the dark red sweater the other boy has and then to the light jacket he himself is wearing. To be fair, he’s brought the curse of Trashmouth Tozier upon himself. “You’ve b-been c-c-colder.”

Richie just grumbles, and then they turn a corner and the movie theater is in sight. _Salvation, thank fuck,_ Bill thinks as he picks up the pace slightly. They aren’t the last ones there, surprisingly—Stan and Ben are nowhere in sight. Beverly and Eddie are talking as Mike is chatting with the cashier at the box office, probably trying to get some sort of discount.

“Hey,” he calls once they’re within earshot. Bev and Eddie turn and beam at them as Mike spares a moment to wave. He and Richie park their bikes in the rack on the street before joining up with the others. They debate about whether they should see a movie later in the evening, eventually deciding to wait for the other two to show up before deciding.

Beverly looks quite warm, Bill notices as the four of them talk (Mike’s still talking with the box office lady). A gray cap settles over her short red hair, and her blue jacket is buttoned all the way up. She’s beautiful, and even though Bill is scared of a lot of things including this, it doesn’t stop it from being true.

On the other hand, Bill has to laugh a little at Eddie’s appearance. He has no jacket, just a long sleeve T-shirt and a hat, hastily put together over his bulky cast. When he asks about the outfit choice, Eddie just scowls, shivering, and explains that his mom was being so overbearing about him going out that he practically ran out the door to escape, forgetting his coat.

“Yet I still have this fucking aspirator, which I probably don’t even need, and it’s _cold_ ,” Eddie complains as he pulls the device from his pocket and stares at it bitterly, shivering again.

Richie grins, eyebrows going up. “You’re cold, Eds? Why didn’t you say something?” He shrugs out of his sweater, revealing his own long sleeve shirt underneath. Handing the red garment to Eddie, he grins as Bill feels his own eyebrows try to escape.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says half-heartedly, looking at the sweater hesitantly. “You sure, Richie?”

“Of course!” Richie grins even wider, looking tempted to slip into a Voice before Bill gives him a look. He continues in his normal voice. “No one ever knew a Tozier to get cold even in Antarctica, my ma always said.”

_I thought you_ just _said you were cold,_ Bill thinks, puzzled.

“What on Earth was the context for that?” Bev laughs, eyes flicking between Richie and Eddie, the latter pulling the sweater over his head.

“Ya don’ wanna know, sweethear’,” Richie replies with a laugh of his own, giving in and slipping into a Voice. Bill can’t even tell which one it is, it’s so bad.

“Why are you so goddamn tall, Rich?” Eddie’s disgruntled mumble interrupts them, muffled by the sweater. Bill takes one look at him and has to stifle a laugh. He’s practically drowning in the thick material, the arms much too long and the difficulty level twice as high due to the cast.

Bev and Richie let out twin “Aww”s, though Richie’s definitely seems to be more teasing. “C’mere, Eds,” he laughs, reaching out and helping Eddie roll up the sleeves. Once they can see Eddie’s hands again, Richie moves to pull away but then doubles back and grabs Eddie’s wrists. “Jesus, your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah, _I’m_ freezing!” Eddie points out again. When Richie raises an eyebrow at him, he sighs. “Fine. Thanks.”

“No problem, Eds,” Richie smiles back, and there’s something so strange about the scene that Bill has to take a mental picture. As Eddie, Richie, and Beverly continue to talk, Bill takes a moment to think back on it.

The obvious thing is the whole sweater thing. Richie, who had complained to Bill for twenty minutes about how cold he was, had _voluntarily_ given Eddie his sweater. That in itself was weird, but then everything after that was just… bizarre. The smile, too. When has he ever seen Richie Tozier smile at _anyone_ like that, so… so _soft_ , and _caring_? Sure, Bill knows that Richie cares about all of them, and yeah, he smiles a lot, but not like this. This is very out of character for him.

Then he realizes something else, and he has to glance at his friends to confirm it because it’s just all so strange. As soon as he looks, he knows he’s right. He remembers how as soon as he and Richie arrived, just as Bill had gravitated toward Beverly, Richie moved to Eddie. Sure enough, Richie’s arm is slung over Eddie’s small shoulders.

So. The spontaneous clothes-sharing, the smiling, the incessant touching…

The conclusion is no more strange than the rest of it all, but Bill does initially try to discount it. He quickly realizes, however, that he just can’t eliminate the possibility that Eddie and Richie are… are what, exactly? Together?

Stan arrives, interrupting his train of thought. They’re just waiting for Ben at this point. Stan’s face is still covered with scars, hair flopping over his face to hide them (even though Bill has assured him multiple times that he doesn’t have to), and he’s absently rubbing one of the marks as he walks up. Bill gently takes his wrist and pulls it away, like he’s been doing almost every day, multiple times, for a month.

“Sorry,” Stan says, and Bill responds like he always does; he smiles and shakes his head, trying to say _it’s okay, you haven’t done anything wrong, I just could never let you hurt yourself_ without saying anything because he knows he’ll stutter to much. His stomach churns every time he remembers Stan’s frantic screaming echoing through the sewers, though he can’t quite remember seeing him (“You left me! You left me!”), and though the context is slightly convoluted at this point, Bill knows he’ll never forget the moment itself. His smile wants to fall, but then he sees Stan’s slightly embarrassed face (he’s been trying to kick the habit of picking at the marks, without much success) and he has to laugh, giving Stan a reassuring glance as he slings an arm over his shoulders.

It’s Stan’s turn to grin, and Bill gets a certain note of satisfaction in that, since he doesn’t smile much anymore. “Hey,” Stan suddenly says, sounding a little confused, smiles still playing over his lips. “Is Eddie wearing Richie’s sweater? He looks like he’s drowning.”

Bill chuckles slightly at that, glad he isn’t the only one who used that metaphor, and then all of a sudden he remembers what he’s been trying to figure out. He studies them, then, the way Richie leans into Eddie, how Eddie’s head comfortably rests on Richie’s shoulder from time to time.

Somehow, it seems to him that they don’t even realize what they’re doing. It’s just… happening. Like magnets. And yes, Bill knows it’s dangerous, and he isn’t sure he can really comprehend where they stand, but he has to smile a little. They, if anyone, deserve a little peace. And even though they clearly don’t know it yet, Bill knows what’s coming.

Bev glances at him by chance, then, and he quirks an eyebrow as he tips his head toward the two boys. He wants to make sure he’s not the only one seeing this, like she did with the bathroom just a few months ago. He’s relieved, then, when she nods hesitantly. They have a very short, silent exchange, but Bill gets it. The gist of it: _We’re not going to say anything to the others and we’re going to support them no matter what._

Bill agrees completely, but he still can’t resist a _little_ teasing. So as Ben finally arrives (“Sorry, got held up at home”) and they walk off to whatever Mike has planned, Bill detaches himself from Stan for a moment to lean over to Richie’s left ear as he whispers, “Not so c-cold anymore, huh?” Richie turns slightly, confusion etched into his face, and Bill doesn’t want to rush anything so he just shrugs, backing off. Then, suddenly, Richie blanches, glancing to his right. Bill follows his gaze to his right hand, where his pinky is locked with Eddie’s on his good hand. Not hand-holding, necessarily, but extremely reminiscent of it.

“Shit,” Bill hears Richie whisper, and Bev sends them both disapproving glances.

Eddie looks away from his conversation with Ben at the sound of Richie cursing. “Everything okay, Richie?” he asks, wide eyes concerned.

“Y-yeah,” Richie stutters, flushing, and Bill is a little guilty at rushing the process but he can somehow sense that the outcome will be worth it. He watches as Richie tries to get his emotions under control. “I’m fine, Eds. Just… realized something.” Eddie seems satisfied with that and turns back to Ben, pinky still locked with Richie’s.

“Shit, Bill,” Richie hisses once Bill steps closer again. Bill just shrugs again, making sure Richie knows: _I’m here if you need me._

Then he backs away, falling into step beside Stan once again as he and Bev they share another look.

* * *

He’s an idiot. He scored _third_ place in a race to realize what was going on in his _own_ mind.

Fuck, he’s _such_ an idiot.

“Bill, Bev, what the _fuck_ ,” Richie mumbles, hands over his face.

“Well, yeah,” Bill shrugs.

Richie feels lost. “So… I like Eddie?”

“It’s looking like it,” Beverly nods. “And, I mean, _don’t_ you? Think about it.”

Richie rubs his eyes tiredly. “Yeah, I… yeah. And you guys figured it out before I did?”

“Yup.”

Richie groans again. “Shit.”

They’re in Bill’s room, Bill on his bed and Bev in the desk chair. Bev’s been staying at all the other Losers’s houses (sans Eddie, his mother would never allow it—though they sneak her in through the window sometimes when she has nowhere to go) and will be doing that until high school is over and she can move in with her mom. It’s a hectic setup, but Bev thinks it’s worth it, because she can’t imagine leaving her friends just yet. This week is Bill’s turn so she’s set up camp in his room, though she’s aware she has to gather everything together soon so she can stay at Richie’s. And speaking of Richie, she has to ask.

“Did you really not know?”

“No!” Richie cries, flopping down on the bed next to Bill. His head hurts, right behind his eyes. He’s _not_ going to cry. “I just thought… I don’t know. I didn’t think about it!”

Bill sighs, glancing at Bev. “Richie…”

“What?” Richie mumbles into his sleeves, glasses askew.

“What are you g-g-going to d-do?”

Oh, God, what _is_ he going to do? Eddie doesn’t know, does he? Fuck, if he knows… he _can’t_ know. Richie can’t do this.

“Well, I can’t very well tell him, can I?” Richie replies, voice strained and catching in his throat. “He isn’t… he doesn’t…” He lets out a deep sigh that sounds more like a choked sob. “I love him. Ah, it’s all fucked.”

But when Bill opens his mouth to tell the distraught boy what he knows, the words catch in his throat and not because of his stutter. Because how would Eddie feel, being outed like that when he maybe doesn’t even know himself? Because how could he give Richie hope when, even if he and Beverly were positive about Eddie liking boys, there was the slight possibility he wouldn’t react well?

So he shuts his mouth, locking eyes with Bev, who just looks helpless.

“Sorry, Richie,” she says softly, and both she and Bill pretend not to notice when Richie reaches beneath his glasses to rub at his eyes.

* * *

Stan notices, because of course he does.

Sometime in December, with school slowing down for the holidays, the Losers take to the streets. As they’re walking around town yet again, he can’t help but notice Richie’s strange behavior. Usually, his hands are all over Eddie—pinching his cheeks, slinging an arm around him, messing up his hair, the list goes on.

But today… today, Richie is a few feet away from Eddie, well out of the usual comfort zone. Stan stifles a slight laugh when he realizes that Eddie, though he doesn’t seem to notice, is subconsciously trying to close the unusual gap, walking in an extremely slanted line until his arm brushes Richie’s and the taller boy jerks away.

Stan is distracted by the scene for a moment by Bill, reaching over and pulling his hand down from his face where he’d been absently running his fingers over the scars It left.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Bill just shakes his head, smiling slightly like he always does, squeezing his hand before dropping it. His gaze shifts ahead, and Stan follows his eyes back to Richie and Eddie.

Stan hasn’t really thought about how much they were always in each other’s personal space. It was just a staple of the group. But today, Richie seems stiff and so painfully awkward that it almost is tangible. Eventually, as they walk along the waterfront, Richie loosens up and grabs Eddie’s right arm, not seeming to care whether he jostles it too much seeing as Eddie had gotten the cast off a few weeks ago (he was supposed to get it off literally two months ago until his mother insisted he keep it—seriously, she’s almost gotten worse since the summer). He hears Richie laugh as he pushes Eddie’s sleeve up and points to the obvious letters written on his skin in marker, a few tiny scribbles of notes surrounding a much larger LOSER edited with red pen to read LOVER instead. (Honestly, Stan didn’t expect anything less.)

“You couldn’t help yourself, could ya?” Eddie grins. “You get one A in art class and then bored during math, and suddenly you think you’re a tattoo artist.”

“You betcha, Eds!” Richie chirps back, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. “And don’t lie to yourself, you love it.”

Stan watches as Eddie flushes and gives Richie a half-hearted shove. Then something peculiar happens—maybe he was off-balance from the laughing, maybe he just lost his footing—Richie tumbles to the ground and sprawls on his back.

Laughter from the other Losers breaks through the air around them, incredulous that tiny, lovable Eddie has just knocked Trashmouth Tozier over. Richie is laughing, too, on the ground shaking with the force of his hilarity even as Eddie apologizes multiple times.

“It’s fine, Eds,” Richie finally manages to get out, trying to catch his breath. “Just wasn’t prepared.” Eddie pulls him up off the ground, Richie clinging to LOVER as he pushes himself up. Everyone begins walking again, and that whole scene has lifted Stan’s mood enough that he falls into step beside Bev. Bill’s arm is over his shoulder again like normal, and Stan feels okay enough to tell Beverly about a rare bird he’d seen yesterday, half-listening to Bill’s conversation next to him with Ben and Mike about a book he’d read. He quickly notices that she’s not listening at all and is about to say something to get her attention, but then he realizes what—or who, rather—she is looking at.

Richie, only slightly ahead of them, hasn’t let go of Eddie’s doodled-on hand since the whole scene he’d caused minutes earlier. Again, it wasn’t like touching was unusual for Clingy Richie Tozier, but this…

_Of course_.

As he realizes, Richie glances over his shoulder at Beverly, and Stan sees the look he has in his eyes. It’s helpless, and he’s startled because this is Richie, Trashmouth, the one with the words to answer everything. Richie isn’t helpless.

Except here, he is, because Richie is in love with Eddie, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Stan meets his eyes for a split second before he looks away, and he tries to tell Richie that it’ll be okay, even if he doesn’t quite know how yet.

Then Richie is laughing with Eddie again, untethered happiness on his face despite the pain in his eyes.

* * *

Ben’s not blind. He really isn’t. He sees how Bill looks at Beverly. He knows how _he_ looks at Bev. But he’s starting to suspect that he might at least need some reading glasses at this point because _damn_ , it’s so obvious yet he hasn’t noticed until now.

They’re all sleeping over at Richie’s house sometime during May of 1990—his parents don’t care, they aren’t there—watching a random collection movies they’ve brought. Bill is sprawled over the couch, Bev and Mike balancing on the back. Stan is perched on one of the arms, feet tucked by Bill’s. Richie and Eddie have set up fort in a mound of pillows and blankets forming a nest in front of the couch. Ben invited himself to the comfortable tall armchair when he first arrived, and he isn’t regretting it one bit.

They’re on their third movie when heads begin to droop, and though they all get through _Back To The Future_ , Bill is out by _E.T._ along with Stan. Pausing the movie (earning complaints from Richie), Bev and Mike rearrange the two boys so they’re not in danger of toppling to the ground, moving Bill so they can lay Stan on the couch as well. When the two boys are sleeping soundly, parallel to each other on the couch, they consider it a success. Then they themselves move down from the back of the couch onto the two arms and resume.

Ben starts to feel sleepy himself, very glad he doesn’t have to share space (not that he would mind, really, especially not with Bev, but hey, she made her own seating choice). He’s just entertaining the thought of asking Eddie and Richie for a blanket from their nest, but then he glances over and freezes.

Bev and Mike don’t seem to notice, glued as they are to the movie, but the two boys down below don’t seem to be paying attention much at all. Eddie is clearly drowsy, head tucked into the crook of Richie’s neck, atop his shoulder. Richie has an arm wrapped around him, pressing closer than ever now that Eddie’s cast is off (his mother finally gave in back in the fall after Eddie forced her to admit she was going overboard. The whole gang had been there to watch. Ben found it fucking hilarious and really brave). The dark-haired boy’s glasses are slipping down his nose, which is slightly angled to press into the tops of Eddie’s head, nuzzling into his brown hair. As Ben watches, Eddie mumbles something and turns his head, nosing further into Richie’s neck. Richie grins, looks down, mutters something in reply. And then he smiles some more.

There’s something about the way that Richie’s eyes light up that throws Ben off-guard. Because, he swears, the way Richie is looking at Eddie is only comparable to the way Ben _feels_ when he looks at Beverly. And the only way he could possibly explain that was…

Duh. Of course.

So (in his head, of course) Ben calls himself an idiot a few times, then calls the two Losers on the floor idiots too, then curls up in the chair and lets himself drift to sleep.

* * *

Mike’s never really been one for romance. He knows about girl stuff in theory, sure, and he does find Beverly to be an amazing friend and interesting person, but it’s almost like watching from another planet when he sees Ben’s face light up when Beverly so much as says hello. He supposes he’ll understand all that love stuff when he’s ready, but he’s in no rush.

So, he thinks as he periodically checks the scene by his feet, he can cut himself some slack for not noticing anything. (Also, he’ll never understand how the fuck they manage to get to all the topics that they do during these sleepovers.)

At some point, Eddie totally conks out, leaving him leaning on Richie. It looks uncomfortable for Richie, to Mike, but the bespectacled boy doesn’t seem to mind. After the movie is over, however, he slowly and carefully shifts, easing Eddie off his shoulder. Gently laying him down in the nest, Richie swivels his head to look up at him and Beverly.

“Up for one more movie?” he asks, lips quirking up despite a strange longing gleam in his eyes, and even though it’s two in the morning Mike could never resist good ol’ Star Wars. He pops in _Return of the Jedi_ , and the three of them watch in relative silence, only the occasional bit of commentary flickering in and out.

They have a momentary distraction only fifteen minutes in when Stan starts to mumble in his sleep. They ignore him for about two minutes before he shoots awake with a choked gasp, wild look in his eyes. Beverly almost falls off of the couch arm in her shock, but catches herself. Richie, holding the remote, jumps as well, turning the TV off and leaving them in relative darkness. Bill, startled by Stan’s sudden movements, wakes up as well, bolting upright.

“Stan?” Mike whispers, not wanting to wake up Ben and Eddie, both still sound asleep though Eddie rolls over.

Stan doesn’t seem to hear him, eyes unfocused. “You left me, you—”

“Hey,” Bill interrupts with a louder whisper. “H-hey, St-stan, no. We’re in R-r-richie’s house. W-we’re all here. It’s all ov-ver.” It feels wrong for anyone else to speak, so Mike sends a cautionary glance at everyone else. They don’t interrupt at all (even Richie) as Bill continues to whisper reassurances and bat Stan’s hands away from his face. Eventually—it can’t take more than five minutes, though it feels longer, and Mike’s truly amazed that the other two haven’t woken up yet—Stan’s head lolls and his eyes close, and Bill sighs in relief.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it?” Mike has to ask. “Worse than the rest of us.”

It’s Richie who answers, startlingly joke-less. “He calls me sometimes, at three in the morning or some shit. Eddie does it, too. I don’t… I don’t think it’s particularly nice to be alone.”

Mike casts a glance at Eddie, looking so small in the blankets, before looking back at Stan. He already looks much more peaceful, scars almost faded, one of Bill’s arms thrown around him. “He’s not alone,” he has to point out.

“N-none of us are al-l-lone,” Bill agrees, fingers raking through Stan’s curly mop of hair. “He has t-t-to know that we lov-v-ve him.”

“I think he does know that,” Beverly says. “But sometimes, he forgets.”

Bill doesn’t fall back asleep once Richie turns the TV back on. Instead, he watches the movie with tired eyes as Stan sleeps on his shoulder. When Eddie had turned over he’d done it in such a way that his head had basically just rolled into Richie’s lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Mike finds it hard to focus on the movie, because his mind is racing, but eventually they all settle down again.

At least, until one of the last few scenes. As they watch the Rebellion win and love conquer all and whatnot, Richie lets out an honest-to-God _whimper_. It’s something of pure misery, something Mike hasn’t heard since… Bill, in the sewers, with Georgie’s coat. His skin prickles at the memory.

He brushes that aside, however, when he sees how Richie is completely falling apart as quietly as he can, eyes locked on the small figure below him. (Well, fuck, sleepovers really are some deep shit, huh?) Richie’s hands, carding through Eddie’s hair, have stopped their movements in favor of trembling. Wordlessly, Bev leans down, gently moves Eddie, and pulls Richie up onto the couch arm she’s sitting on, careful not to disturb Stan.

“Shit, Bev,” Richie mumbles quietly after a moment, glasses fogging up. Beverly tugs them off, handing them to Bill, revealing Richie’s blotchy face. Mike’s a little lost, though suspicious, but Richie’s next words (carelessly spoken—looks like he doesn’t care if Mike’s listening, then) clear everything up. “Eddie calls me more than sometimes. It’s almost every night. It scares me so much, because I feel as terrible as Stan looks sometimes and I don’t know how to handle it. And it’s bad anyway, I know it is for all of us, but this makes it _worse_ , because I’m lying to him and it’s _awful_. How does he not know? I love him so much, it _hurts_.”

So that does explain a lot, but Mike’s not about to feel smug about having some suspicions since clearly others knew already and Richie needs help.

“It’ll b-be okay, R-rich,” Bill says quietly.

Richie shakes his head, voice slipping into a higher, more panicked range. “But I can’t, I _can’t_ …”

“I know,” Bev replies. “I know.”

They let him cry silently for a few minutes, the sounds from the movie still echoing behind him. Mike just sits there, processing and thinking.

When Richie finally stops shaking, Bill holds his glasses for a moment longer so he can wipe his eyes before handing them back. As Richie slides them back over his face, he sighs, turning to Mike. “Sorry.”

Mike shakes his head. “If I can offer some advice,” he says in a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone. Richie tips his head as a _yes_ , so Mike feels okay continuing. “It’s Eddie, remember. He’s not going to hate you. No matter what. And—I mean, who else knows?”

“Well, Bill,” Richie says, the boy on the couch lifting a hand in acknowledgement. “And Bev, obviously. Stan too, probably.”

“Ben does, too,” Bev admits. “I swear I didn’t tell him anything, but I saw him watching you two earlier. He definitely knows.”

Richie frowns. “Okay, so everyone but Eds, apparently. Who's next, Bill's mom?”

Mike shrugs. “And has anyone reacted badly?” When Richie shakes his head, Mike tries to give an affirmative nod. “There. That’s a good sign.”

Richie looks like he wants to say something else, probably something along the lines of either _what about parents_ or a certainly inappropriate joke, but then he seems to think better of it and just grins weakly. “Thanks, Mike.”

Mike isn’t joking when he asks himself how they manage to get through all these topics.

The credits roll, Richie sits back down in the nest, and Mike falls asleep.

* * *

Once Eddie wakes, the first thing he notices is the concentrated spot of warmth right beside him, an arm that isn’t his flopping across his torso. Carefully rolling away, he frees himself from the blanket nest without waking Richie. He grins fondly at the soundly-sleeping figure next to him, glasses discarded and hair wild. As he sits up, he glances down at his arm to check the time. Then he sees the drawing Richie has so carefully maintained over the months: LOSER, all capital letters, with the black-sharpie S covered by a red V. It’s a nice sentiment, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t know where his watch is. _Then_ , he remembers how he couldn’t turn off the now-useless medication alarm so Richie had tossed it into the quarry a week before. Looking around, he notices Bill, tired eyes open and staring at the ceiling.

“Bill,” he whispers, and the other boy’s eyes flick over to him. “What time is it?”

Bill glances at his watch. “Eight.”

“Help me make breakfast?” he asks.

Bill grimaces, shaking his head slightly. “I c-can’t g-g-get up without waking S-stan. Sorry.” Looking more thoroughly, Eddie can see that he’s right—Stan has managed to entangle literally every single one of their limbs sans one of Bill’s arms, the one with the watch on it.

“It’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, wondering when on earth Stan found the time to become a clingy little shit. That question is answered quickly.

“He had a n-n-nightmare,” Bill says. “I d-doubt he’ll rem-m-memb-ber later, b-but he should sleep.”

Eddie nods rapidly, not wanting to come off as anything but understanding. “It’s fine,” he says again. “If anyone wakes up, though, send them into the kitchen.”

Bill nods without saying anything, so Eddie takes it as his cue to leave. Going through the kitchen, he notices that the Toziers definitely need to go on a shopping trip, but there’s definitely still enough in the fridge and cupboards for a decent meal. He finds some Eggos, enough pancake mix to feed them all, eggs, toast, and cereal. Setting aside the cereal and Eggos, he quickly throws together the eggs and pancakes. He’s decent enough of a cook thanks to his mother’s teachings and that one semester of Home Economics in school everyone was required to take.

Ten minutes later, probably awakened by the smell, Ben and Stan wander in, a newly-freed Bill trailing after them. He sets them to work, flipping pancakes and toasting Eggos and sliced bread. By nine, everyone’s stumbling into the kitchen in search of food.

“I didn’t even know we had this much food in the whole _house_ ,” Richie marvels through a yawn. His glasses are askew on his face and his hair is a definitive mess, but Eddie still gets that warm feeling he always does when Richie smiles.

“You guys did all this?” Bev asks, snatching a waffle.

Eddie would be willing to share the credit, to be honest, but Stan really is a gift. “It was mostly Eddie,” he says. “Bill, Ben, and I just helped after he’d already pretty much finished.”

“Damn, Eds,” Richie says, eyebrow going up. “I should keep you.”

Eddie grins under the praise, noticing but not really thinking much of the pointed glances all the other Losers shot to each other. Richie suddenly shifts, flicking off the stove and flipping the last pancake onto the plate.

“There,” he says smugly. “I helped.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie agrees, unable to stop the smile from spreading over his face. He sits down at the kitchen table, Richie sliding into the chair next to him and the others filling in the gap.

“Thanks forever, Eddie,” Mike says around a mouthful toast, sitting in between Ben and Bill across the table, opening the way for a seven-way conversation about whatever.

Eddie just sits back and enjoys this good feeling, like he helped and it’s worth it and the all appreciate him and _Richie_ appreciates him and… wait. That was a weird little tangent his brain went on. Huh.

He glances up, chatter still ringing around him, and takes a bite of pancake. As he chews, he taps his fork thoughtfully on his plate. Then, he swallows and just happens to glance to his right.

Richie is looking at him, eyes bright. His face looks slightly pink, probably due to the heat of the seven of them being in close-quarters, but he has a strange expression.

“What?” Eddie asks, small laugh bubbling up in his throat. He wipes vaguely at his mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

Richie shakes his head. “How did you not notice?” he mutters, but he suddenly sounds like his thoughts are far away.

Eddie tilts his head. “Notice what?”

Richie reaches out, grabbing his right hand and lifting it. His fingers carefully trace over the word written on Eddie’s arm, and Eddie can feel that he’s tracing the V instead of the S. Eddie’s heart rate rockets into high gear.

“I love you,” Richie says simply, and the laughter in his throat—as well as all the talking around the table—dies immediately. A fork, he can’t tell whose, clatters onto a plate as Mike drops his toast and Stan chokes, Bill whacking him on the back before anything gets worse.

Eddie opens his mouth to says something, _anything_ , but nothing comes out. The rest of the table sits in stunned silence. Eddie’s heart is in his throat. Finally, he manages to say something. “I—What?”

Richie flushes, but he doesn’t back down. His hand has stopped its movements on Eddie’s arm, and now his thumb is pressing firmly onto his pulse point. “I’m in love with you.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says, heart speeding up so much he’s afraid he’ll have a heart attack, “don’t joke like that. It’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” Richie says, voice impossibly calm despite a faint tremor, and this is the most serious and honest Eddie has ever seen him. All eyes are on them.

His lungs seem to constrict—but it’s not like his “asthma”, it’s… different. His next breath sounds like a rattled breath anyway, though.

Richie’s face immediately turns concerned. “Did I—Do you need your inhaler? I have one up in my room, I can—”

“No,” Eddie stops him, stomach flipping. Something clicks. Because Richie has a spare aspirator for him even though he doesn’t need it, because Richie keeps the word LOVER carefully inked on his arm, because Richie is _Richie_ , because when Richie said the word “love” his first thought was _oh, that’s what this is_ , because it all makes sense now, because Eddie is so, _so_ in love with him. “I—you… how?”

“I’m so fucking in love with you,” Richie says. “And I didn’t realize and then I tried to avoid it and then I tried to hide it but I couldn’t because it’s _you_ , Eds.”

Eddie’s so frozen, he can’t even object to the nickname. His mouth isn’t obeying him. “I…”

Richie’s face is so hopeful and all Eddie can see, so when Bev’s voice suddenly breaks in he startles a little.

“Let’s give them some space, guys,” she says, and with the scraping of chairs suddenly they’re alone. The kitchen feels so big, yet at the same time he doesn’t have enough oxygen because Richie is right there and they’re breathing the same air and Eddie’s germ aversion is starting to kick back into high gear due to the stress but he can’t back away because this is Richie and _he loves him_.

“I’m sorry for springing this one you,” Richie says, face carefully controlled but still so earnest. His hand almost has Eddie’s arm in a death grip, but it feels like it’s grounding him so Eddie doesn’t shake him off. “We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to do anything. I just—I couldn’t keep lying to you.”

“No,” Eddie says again, finally recovering himself. Richie’s face contorts into a frown, a hint of fear to it all. “No, Richie, I…” He has to stop and think. Because Richie is the one who held his face and comforted him when they thought they were about to die last summer. Because Richie gives him sweaters when he’s cold and keeps an inhaler even though it’s useless. Because Richie thinks of him as a Loser but not a loser, because Richie wrote in “lover” instead. Because Richie has always believed in him. Richie is the only one who could make him laugh like he did. Richie Tozier is the one in love with him.

And he didn’t realize, because his love was always supposed to be for a girl, that’s what his mother (and everyone except his friends) always insisted, so he kept waiting for that to happen but when it didn’t and it was Richie instead, he just assumed… assumed a lot of things. He didn’t recognize it for what it was. But Richie knew, and now Eddie knows, and he’s so sorry he missed it. He’s so sorry it took him so long to figure it out, and it doesn’t matter that Richie’s a boy it just matters that he’s _him_.

But Eddie knows he could never put that all into words, so what he does instead is take Richie’s face into his hands like Richie did for him all those months ago. Richie’s eyes widen, and Eddie can sense that he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t need to hear anything else. _Fuck being scared._ He leans up, only hesitating for a brief second before connecting their lips.

Dizzily, Eddie notices that Richie tastes like maple syrup. The thought of germs ( _bad scary dangerous_ ) crosses his mind, but that’s his mother talking and he doesn’t want to think of her while Richie is quite literally in his face, so he shuts her out. Instead, he tilts his head, careful not to bump Richie’s glasses off his face, one hand dropping down to Richie’s shirt to tug him further down so he doesn’t have to stand on his tiptoes as the other hand slides up into dark curls. Richie cooperates (which he normally doesn’t, so it’s a pleasant surprise), wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, trusting the shorter boy as he leads the way.

And it feels like it only lasts for a moment, but it’s easily the best moment of his life. Eventually, unfortunately, Eddie needs to breathe before he gets an actual asthma attack so he reluctantly pulls back. As he pulls away, he stares up at Richie as his hands fall back to his sides, feeling his face burn brightly as Richie beams, and then Richie has his hands on Eddie’s face just like last summer. His heart is racing, too, just as it was then, but it isn’t _scary_ this time. It’s… it’s a really fucking good feeling. Eddie shivers as Richie runs the pads of his thumbs over his cheekbones, fingers locked behind Eddie’s ears and tangling in his still sleep-mussed hair.

“I love you so much, Eds,” Richie says, eyes shining. Eddie smiles, toes tingling and head buzzing, and he keeps smiling through the next kiss, and the next one, and then for as long as he can.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you all enjoyed this story! it's both my first it fanfic and my first reddie fanfic. i had a lot of fun writing it, though it took several weeks of staying up until two am on school nights. it was worth it. (skip the rest of the a/n if you don't really care about how i see the backstory in my head)
> 
> i didn't want to just jump over all the trauma the losers club has, but it was really hard working it all into the story. i don't have much experience with ptsd, but i do with other stuff like anxiety, so i did my best to strike a balance. i hope i did it justice.
> 
> to clear up all of the "throwaway" lines i put in: this story takes place from september of 1989 to May of 1990. the time jumps aren't much, but substantial. also, i headcanon all of the losers as such: richie, bill, bev, and stan are bi/pan. mike is a demiromantic ace and eddie is gay. i don't really have a specific hc for ben, because i find there's an argument for anything. just my personal headcanons.
> 
> oh, also, i want you, the readers, to tell me if i should write another reddie fic where richie and eddie are already dating and the losers figure it out? i'll be doing more it fics anyway, but i want to know if anyone finds that idea interesting. and if you don't, tell me what other idea would be interesting!
> 
> anyway! leave a comment if you enjoyed, and i hope y'all have a great day!
> 
> ~logan
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@he-lives-on-mirkwood](https://he-lives-on-mirkwood.tumblr.com)!


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